Puddles
âAre you lost?â The feeble prophet demanded. âOh Iâm never lost, for it is your faith in the lord that guides me to our goal" The prophet though old and knowledgeable assumed the guide correct, butthe guide dare not show heâs cunning grin. "If the faith is right sire we will be there in a matter of hours" The guide stated. Over his shoulder the prophet was unable to see his face due the length of hair covering it and the hunch the man had. The prophet didnât trust this man anymore then he trusted Satan himself, but the lord lead him this far and with his weapons he could deal with this degenerate easily enough. That is if the lord wished it of course.
 Hours went by not a word was spoken until the guide spoke out, âI believe this is what you seek, oh great prophetâ The prophet gasped in awe and nodded "This is it then. The temple of the lost tribes?" The question was more of a rhetorical statement, as the prophet was trying to come to terms that this moment was upon him. The guide answered the question regardless, "Of course, the lord always helps his most vital servants." Ahead stood the once mighty temple. Time was kind to the grand structure. From the outside one would have no idea of the horror that has occurred here. Very few know of these events, the prophet was among the knowing. The prophet, excited to see the temple, made his way inside.
 The temple was simple in design, but elegant in detail. The center of the room held a large stone table stained with blood, and burned from flame. "So, this is where they did it. This is where they sealed him.â The Prophet runs his hand across the table trying to imagine their plight. âDo you know your way around inside the catacombs?" The Prophet wished to see more of this historical place, "Well enough to get you where you need to be my lord". The guide approached a candle on the wall pulling it forward. As the guide did this a small section of the floor vanished without any movement, leaving behind nothing but stairs to the dark underground. The prophet examines the stairs downward and inquired to the guide, "Itâs so dark. How will we see?" The prophet turned to see the man with two of the candle sticks in hand, "With this my lord, itâs why I grabbed it." The prophet was going to ask how he detached it from the wall, but decided against it. He took one of the candle sticks from the guide and they began their decent.
 Insects climbed the, walls dirt coated the floor, and even though he couldnât see the ceiling he could guess it was just as filthy. It saddened him to see such a wondrous place in such disarray. He heard so many tales of wonder about this place, the place where it happened, where they finally won the war. "I assume youâre look for the tombs so as to pay homage to those that died sealing the gre-âŠterrible one." The prophet simply nodded keeping his eyes on the guide and his hand at his side. They walked on for many minutes before the prophet noticed the water on the floor. As they walked on he noticed the amount of water increased, "What causes these puddles that surround us?" The guide looked over his shoulder and quickly answered, "The water seeps through the ground of course." This was unlike how the guide had acted the whole way here. He had an odd haste to his walk. This worried the prophet, but he still needed the man if he wished to leave this place. The puddles became deeper as he went further, but the prophet didnât say a word about it he just walked on.
 Finally they came to a metal door with names etched into its outside. The prophet reads the names, but recognizes none, "Who are all these people." He turns to ask the guide, but he was gone. From out of the darkness he heard a voice, "They are the names of every pool we passed, every fool who entered, and every creature that dared to not fear me!" Out of the darkness the guide stepped. He stood straight, his hunched no more. His hair was tied back from his face,his face scared from burns. "Who are you?" the prophet asked with terror in his voice.A sickly smile formed on the guides face, the prophet was greeted with a view of his shark like teeth as the guide spoke, âCan you not see? Does your lord not show you? I am he the demon that was sealed here.â The prophets face went ghostly pale as the realization of his plight came to him, âWâŠwâŠwhat do you wâŠwâŠwant from mâŠmâŠme?â Tears ran down the prophetâs face now as he cried in fear. Still smiling the demon handed him a sharp stone, "What do you think I want?"  Now on the ground unable to stand from fear, the prophet asked, "Are you going to kill me?" The guide took a knee and leaned in close to the prophetâs face. With a soft whisper of a voice he said, âDo you fear death prophet?â The prophet, crippled with fear, could no longer speak. The demon chuckled amused at the prophetâs distress. With laughter that shuttered the spine the demon spoke, "Iâll take your cries as a yes. You have a choice to make here prophet, that is, if you wish to live. If you your choice is life, then deny your god and follow me. The promise of fortune and victory await you. If you are a true believer, then you can write your name on that door with the other true believers. But, if you do this only pain and suffering await at the end of that road." The prophet didnât know what to do he couldnât forsake his lord, but the prophet knew he wasnât ready to die. He was as a cross roads, what was he to do?
 After a long while of though the Prophet muttered, âAlrightâŠâ A silent response, almost as if to himself. âWhat? I didn't quite here that? Speak CLEARLY!â The demon screamed the last word down on the prophet making him withdraw further towards the door, âIâŠI forsake myâŠgod and choose toâŠI choose toâŠâ The Demon howled at the pathetic man, âSAY IT!â The prophet took a deep breath, âI choose to worship you as myâŠmy lordâ The demon gazed down at the groveling man, âWell then you know what to doâŠbow and swear by my name to live in my honorâ As the demon finished his instructions the man broke down and did as he said. When the deed was done the demon started to laugh. He laughed for what felt like eternity to the scared man, âSoâŠthatâs it then right? I can lâŠlâŠlive?â The prophet was sad too look at. The demon stopped his laughter and looked down on the man with prophet with pity in his eyes, "Oh, you poor old fool. Don't they teach you anything of demons? Allow me to shed some light on the subject. When a demon is inside a human body, his powers are all still there, however, we are limited in a simple way. We may not change shape or harm humans. Be that as it may, there is a way around this ruleâ The prophet stared at the demon, âWhaâŠwhat is this?â The demon smiled sickeningly, âIâm glad you asked. The way around this is simple. Those under our dominion, in other words our worshippers, are subject to our powersâ The prophetâs face grew pale as he started to realize what the demon meant. The demon continued, âDo you see now old man? I will let you liveâŠbut, only because I'm going to have a little fun first" The prophet just sat in dread of the situation....what he had just done. Unable to move from fear the prophet just sat and stared, "I can see that youâre speechless with excitementâ The demon laughed to himself, âWell that's fine. You neednât speak anyway" He leaned in close to the prophetâs face. He grasped the candle in the prophetâs hands and whispered "But, I will need you to scream"
 The demon leaned back and stared directly into the prophetâs eyes grinning ear to ear. He lifted the candle to his lips and with one motion blew it out, rescinding into the darkness with a sickening laugh. The prophet was petrified, time seemed to stop. From back in the tunnel the prophet heard a voice, âDavid! Come back to us David!â The voice sounded familiarâŠbut why was it out here? âCome on David itâs time to come with usâ The Prophet could hear footsteps splashing through the puddles of water. A figure in the distance, âThere you are Davidâ The Prophet could hardly make out who the man was, he could swear he knew him, but he just couldnât put his finger on who it was. The figure gave a sigh, âOh David, I know weâve been gone from home for a while but the four of us came looking for you and I walk all the way down here to see what? You crying in a cornerâ The figure leaned down, directly staring into the Prophets face, still the prophet couldnât remember who it was. With a smile he spoke again, âMessing around down here has left you all dirtyâŠhereâŠletâs clean your faceâ The Prophet felt the man begin to drag him by his hair. The Prophet tried to break free, but the man was too strong for him. The Prophet swore he knew no one of such strength, but his mind insisted that he knew this man. Lingering memories of his voice that we couldnât quite grasp, just escaping his reach. After what felt like an hour the man stopped walking, âLook David, we prepared a nice bath for youâ The Prophet looked to see nothing more than a puddle, a puddle that was only slightly deeper than the rest. The man leaned in beside the Prophet and spoke, âYou seem disoriented DavidâŠallow me tooâŠhelp youâ The Prophet could feel the manâs hand being placed on the back of his head. Before he could react The Prophets face was forced into the puddle. He was drowning, The Prophet was dying. He struggled and fought, but it was no use. This man was still too strong for him. The Prophet knew he would die soon as he felt the creeping claws of sleep embracing him. The Prophet closed his eyes. With his death inevitable he chose to accept it.
 The Prophet, a short moment after closing his eyes, felt himself take a large gasp of air. He opened his eyes to find himself outside the temple on the front stair case. He examined himself. He was dry with no signs of his struggle or trial. âImpossibleâŠwas it allâŠa dream?â the Prophet thought to himself, âYesâŠa dreamâ The Prophet stood up smiling and laughing. His suffering was all just a dream, he was relieved. As he turned to the stairs to leave he saw not the outside, but instead he saw the door still carved with the names of those who had fallen to the demon. Next to it stood the beast himself, holding the candle with a sickly grin on his face, âItâs like I said ProphetâŠIâm going to hear you scream, but not just once. I want to hear it again and again and again and againâŠuntil you canât scream anymoreâ With a light chuckle the demon with candle in hand fade away. The Prophet collapses, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of his plight. As his tears begin again once more the Prophet hears footsteps. Looking to the source of the noise in horror the Prophet hears a voice ring out, âDaaaavidâŠbath timeâ.
